As the glow fades into Daggert he breathes deeply and murmurs to himself. Not Iomedae then, for I know her touch. Thank you milady, may you be remembered always.

After admiring the view for a moment, he decides to return. Sliding down the slope to his friends, Daggert finds that the shadow which had settled over his heart since the previous night had finally lifted. With a bounce in his stride he calls out to the others. Well lets be off then! It's a marvelous day for a walk!

Slinging his shield over his shoulder and slipping into his chain shirt, he takes off down the path.

Merisel is impressed by the early morning exertions of her companions. At least it is keeping them warm. Seeing that the day is getting on and that their continuing attempts look futile, she calls out "Let's get going. There's likely nothing else up there."

Then, taking his time, Célestin imprints the path in his mind and asks Daggert to do the same. After that, he examines the bag to see if there is anything else beside the coins and gems, such as a letter or anything of the kind.

There doesn't appear to be anything else of value--it looks as though someone stashed a bit of loot here long ago and never returned to retrieve it. Was it the lady herself? Or was it just that she too was a rogue, and hated to see treasure go to waste? Célestin is not sure he'll ever know.

Daggert tightens his boots and prepares to head off down the path, leading the way. His spirits heightened and sense of adventure on high, he almost skips away down towards the swamp, donning his armor as he goes.

Trecking along, the trail steadily descends, and over the course of the day, a fetid swamp stretches out in ahead.

By noon, the group is standing on the edge of the swamp, shaded by the canopy of trees. Everyone has stowed their winter gear, for the humidity and heat of the swamp is a far cry from the frozen path that morning.

Thick blobs of fog dance in between large tickets as the foul stench of swamp gas pollutes the air. Several exotic species of vines twist along the vapor-shrouded path, creating an ethereal seeming tangle. At random intervals, a splash of fetid water sounds in the distance, signaling the presence of frogs or other bog creatures.

The trail narrows and expands at the whim of the swamp--barely 3 feet wide in some places, and 20 feet wide in others. Leecehs and other parasites swirl in shallow murky pools, waiting to attach to unwary travelers unsure of their feet.

When Merisel catches sight of the swamp in their way, she grimaces, "I didn't much care for the cold, but this place stinks! I hope it's got good footing. Daggert, do you mind leading? I think we're all safest that way. I'll follow so that I can get a clear shot if something bothers us. Then Flinder and Nester can follow in a relatively safe zone. Célestin should bring up the rear so that we're protected from anything behind us."